I Wish I Wasn't Alone
by MakeSconesNotWar
Summary: America wishes he and England's relationship could go back to the way it was when he was a colony. Before the whole taxation and rebellion thing. Rated T for language and minor Angst. Pairing if you squint. Fail summary is Fail.


**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Hetalia or _I Wish I Wasn't Alone_ (The poem, anyway). If I did, do you honestly think I would need to post a story on here instead of publishing it in the manga itself? And if I did own Hetalia, Germany and Italy would have known Germany was the Holy Roman Empire a while ago.  
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_Once when I was little_

_I was happy and carefree_

America giggled, attempting to sneak up on a lavender-coloured butterfly sitting on a flower. He was playing outside while England was inside their house, making tea and watching the small colony play from the kitchen window. Honestly, Arthur did not want him to get himself into trouble.

_I used to run around laughing_

_Until it was time for tea_

England poured tea in two tea cup, setting them carefully on the table to let them cool. Couldn't have his colony burning his tongue, now could he?

"America!"

Said colony peaked his head up out of the grass, a white rabbit held in his small arms.

England sighed and shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. "Say goodbye to the rabbit and come on inside."

America nodded. Time for tea! Iggy always makes the best tea. "Coming! Bye, Mr. Rabbit." He let go of the small rabbit and ran over to England, who picked him up and carried him into the house.

_I used to play games_

_And smile all the time_

"Checkmate!"

England looked up, shocked America was able to even sit through a game of chess and win!

"How the. . .?"

America smiled happily. "I'm the Hero Artie! The Hero never looses!"

England shook his head at his young colony. "Alright. What do you wish for dinner then?"

_I used to feel on top of the world_

_I used to feel fine_

"Hamburgers!"

He shook his head again, standing up from the table and stretching his limbs. "Those are German, not English. I might not get it right."

America's smile widened. "That's okay! Anything Artie makes is good!" Well, yes he was lying. But anything to see his older brother smile.

And that was exactly what he received. If possible, his smile would have widened. He always felt like a king whenever he got to see his big brother smile, and he was the reason.

_It's amazing how thing change_

_When people let you down_

America stared, shocked and angered at his mentor. "Really England!? More taxes!? My people are barely able to pay the one's you are giving us now!"

England simply sipped his tea, legs crossed, like a teenage colony had not barged into his office.

"Damn it, England!" America marched up to where the Brit sat and hit the cup out of his hand, sending it and its contents crashing to the oak flooring.

He raised an eyebrow at the obviously angered boy. America angered more. He was a _man_. Not the boy England continued to see.

_And how that once happy face_

_Turns into a solemn frown_

America stood in the pouring rain, his musket pointed at England, and vise versa.

"Give up England! I am no longer your little brother!" America shouted over the noise of the rain. The childish, cheerful smile that used to adorn his face was replaced with a solemn frown.

England glared at his colony – no, _former_ colony – and charged. "I won't allow it!"

_I search and search_

_For someone who cares_

"Hahaha! Why not you guys!?"

England glared at America, arms crossed. America pretended not to notice. It was harder than he thought.

"Because your idea is stupid. I mean, a robot that produces food?"

America's smile didn't dare falter. "But this will cure world hunger! No more small children dying from hunger and no more depressing commercials with the old guy showing us kids from Third World countries while sad music plays in the background!"

England rolled his eyes. Where did he go wrong. . . ?

_Anyone who understands_

_Anyone who dares_

"Alfred?" a voice said quietly.

Said country turned around from packing up his papers. "Oh, hey Matt! What's up?" America smiled brightly at his younger twin brother.

Canada smiled in relief that he could see him, but it soon fell into a frown. "Is something wrong?"

America's smile faltered slightly – _oh, so slightly – _before it returned, brighter than before in a matter of a second. No one noticed, except two English speaking nations, who were now eyeing him warily. "No way dude! What would make you think that?"

Canada sighed, and England packed his papers just that much slower. "No reason. I guess I was just mistaken. Have a good day Al."

America waved goodbye to his brother before packing quicker than before, his smile falling. Well, he was alone, right?

Wrong.

England was still in the room, stopping his attempts at gathering his items the moment Canada left the room and America's face fell, revealing the sadness and stress and – _is that loneliness?_ –that was hidden carefully behind a blinding smile. America left the room, a shocked Englishman staring after him.

_Loneliness, it hurts_

_It kills you deep inside_

America sighed, discarding his leather bomber jacket onto the ground carelessly. He was too tired, too drained to bother hanging it up properly. Honestly, it was hard hiding your feelings behind a happy, oblivious attitude.

He sighed and walked into his living room, ignoring all the game systems and just flipped on the TV, wanting noise to drown out his thoughts before he got depressed, because Hero's didn't get depressed more than once! And yet, he had way more than once. . .

_It makes you feel empty_

_It stops you in your stride_

America strode down the streets of Washington, looking for the nearest McDonald's. He was hungry, as usual, and he really didn't have the energy to cook. He was surprised he had the energy to shower and get dressed to go out. He was passing a pub – and it was about midnight, so it was packed – when he spotted familiar people. He stopped mid-stride and took a good look inside through the windows. Sitting at the bar, was all of the Allies – even Canada. Well, all of the Allies except _him_.

What the hell!? He was hosting the meeting, and they didn't even invite hi for drinks! Whatever! He didn't care anyway. He glared at the laughing group until he noticed Canada paled slightly and when France asked what was wrong (or so he presumed), Canada pointed at the window in America's direction.

All the countries turned to see said nation's scowl before storming off. No, he didn't care! He didn't care his "Allies" didn't even like him enough to invite him out to drink with the rest of them. Of course he didn't care! He was the Hero! Hero's didn't get upset over things like this, right?

Right?

_You cry yourself to sleep_

_Hugging your pillow tight_

America hugged his pillow tightly, tears leaking through his sky blue eyes.

England and America had fought. Again. This time, though, it hit America harder, and he had no idea _why_!

Wow, did he feel like a teenage girl. He was the United Fucking States of America, for crying out loud!

That didn't stop the tears though. America sighed, wiping his eyes in a worthless attempt at drying his face. He felt his eyes growing heavy. Hey, maybe he might actually get some sleep tonight.

_Wishing for someone_

_To hold you through the night_

Nope. As soon as he was about to fall asleep, a loud crash of thunder sounded.

America didn't jump. Nope! Hero's weren't scared of anything, especially not silly thunder storms!

Another crash of thunder sounded, sending America hiding under his blanket, hugging his pillow tighter.

He remembered when he was a small colony and thunderstorms appeared, he would run to England's room and crawl into his bed, seeking comfort and protection from the scary storms. England would stir from sleep to find a shaking America cuddling up to his chest, and would wrap a protective arm around him, which always calmed America down enough to let him sleep through the storm.

All he wished for now were those very same arms wrapped around him, to protect him from the dark cloud of loneliness, which was much scarier than the storm outside.

_Once when I was little_

_I was happy and carefree_

America looked at a picture of him and England, when they were both much younger, smiling at the camera.

Okay, seriously. This seemed like something the old man would do! This did not suit a Hero!

And yet, he continue sitting on his couch lazily, staring at the picture. Why couldn't things return to the way they were, before they both screwed up what they had? Why couldn't England smile at him like he did when he was a child, because all he did now was scowl and frown at the younger nation.

_Now my life's full of sadness_

_Pain and misery_

Seriously, was it too much to ask for one brief smile sent his way? Just one smile last half a millisecond would make getting up every morning worth it. That, and McDonald's, but that's beside the point! His life was nothing but stress upon loneliness upon misery and pain. All he needed was one reason to get up in the morning. That reason had been the – now fleeting – hope that England might possibly share America's feelings. But, he lost hope a long time ago. Around the time Pearl Harbour was bombed, and when he was seeking emotional – not political – help and comfort from England like a wounded child, he got a frown and a slap in the back of the head, along with being called a "git", Literally adding insult to injury.

_Once when I was little_

_I was never on my own_

When America was a small colony, England made sure he never lost sight of him. He was very young and small, he could get in all kinds of trouble!

There were days when England and America would do nothing but sit in the front room and England would read America a fairytale while the younger sat on his lap, listening intently to tales of knights in shining armour saving damsels in distress.

_But now I pray at night_

"_I wish I wasn't alone."_

Now, England can't stand being in the same room as America. Whenever he is in the latter's presence, he is always in a worse mood than before. He always picks fights with America. Sometimes, on nights when he is lost in his thoughts, America just wishes England would notice how he feels.

He wishes he wasn't alone.

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**A/N: Okay, I wrote this in four hours, more or less. This is my first story on , but if you want to submit flames or criticism or compliment, feel free to do so. I hope you enjoyed. I am sorry if it failed. Oh, and if you had not noticed, the poem's name is "I Wish I Wasn't Alone".**


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